Lone Wolves
by Gypsy Dags
Summary: Okay so this story is set between seasons three and four of The Walking Dead. As far as I can tell and from what I've gleaned from sources, it was between six and seven months. Rated M just in case.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Through Daryl's Eyes**

The way the walkers swarm around Michonne, it's enough to get a fella's heart pumping a touch faster than normal. There are dozens of 'em and she never bats an eyelash. She lops one's head off of its shoulders with sickening ease here and impales another through the eye there. She moves with the eerie combination of a ballerina's grace and a psychopath's killer instinct.

Michonne seems to take a sick sort of pleasure in every walker she puts down. I dispatch a few of my own running along in her footsteps although there's a difference. I just feel sorry for 'em most of the time but it's me or them. I ain't gonna be no walking sack of maggots.

Michonne slices and dices her way through another cluster of walkers. I lose count after five of 'em tumble in the opposite directions of their heads. I loose a bolt from my crossbow into the forehead of one of the herd's stragglers when it comes too close to her. I trust Michonne's instincts but those things can move fast when they want to.

We run through the twisted and tangled undergrowth of the Georgia woods. We quickly outdistance the majority of the herd though we keep our eyes peeled and our pace never slows. They could come out of nowhere.

We hustle along in silence through the woods darkening under the sun's retreat. Michonne doesn't say a word and I'm too focused on breathing evenly to press her for conversation. She doesn't want to talk to me and I understand that it's her process. I'm pretty damn surprised when she finally speaks up.

"Everybody's been talking about you," she says simply, "about how you might be takin' Rick's place."

It's my turn to be silent for a spell.

"I hate to say it but it's kind of true," I reply reluctantly.

We slow to a brisk walk as the moans of the walkers fade into the distance with reassuring speed. That silence falls upon us again and I can't stand it.

"I know what it feels like," I tell her softly as I shoulder a low-hanging branch aside, "to lose someone you love like a brother. Or like a sister."

Her cold, intelligent eyes swing around to stare at me flatly.

"I said I didn't want to talk about Andrea," she answers, "I'm here for one thing and one thing only."

She turns back and continues her inexorable pace through the undergrowth.

"I'm here to kill the Governor," I hear her finish to herself in a soft whisper.


	2. Chapter 1: Through Michonne's Eyes

**Chapter One: Through Michonne's Eyes**

"Hrrgghh..."

My eyes snap open at the sound of the slow, painful moan. Daryl and I are seasoned hunters by now but we still have to sleep every once in a while. We chose an old roadside motel for the job last night.

I sit up with a grimace. The stench of death is thick in the air and I know that it would be even with the window of our room closed. It is their scent.

The herd hasn't caught up with us yet; I'm sure of that. I wouldn't be sitting here gathering my thoughts if that was the case. The walkers outside now are probably just those in the lead.

I glance out the window. Sure enough, there are only two of 'em gimping around out there in the parking lot.

The first is wearing the ragged remains of a suit and tie. One eye has been torn away along with most of the flesh on that side of its face. The other walker is a girl who looks like she should be asking Daddy for a car instead of stumbling along with both of her arms missing.

I click my tongue - twice, softly - without taking my eyes off of the two walkers. Daryl is awake and at my side before the next moan drifts in through the open window with the light of dawn.

He looks out at them for a moment and sucks in a deep breath, exhales.

"There goes the neighborhood," he mutters.

I turn away to smile as we both get ready to move on. Daryl is a really nice guy once you got to know him but I learned the hard way with Andrea. If you get too attached to someone these days, you're going to get hurt and badly. Any one of us can die at any minute.

We creep quietly out of the room and down the garbage-strewn hallway. My boots crunch on broken glass as we approach the nearest exit and I carefully avoid the rest of the mess. Daryl leads the way out through the back door.

There isn't any sense wasting time with two walkers when we have to stay ahead of the herd. We walk on in silence until the moans fade with distance.

I surprise myself by breaking the silence first.

"So what's up with you and Carol?" I ask Daryl, "Are you two friends or . . . What's up?"

Daryl seems taken aback at first. He doesn't reply for a very long moment.

"It's . . . kinda hard to explain," he answers.

I nod without speaking. I walk and wait for him to go on. He just walks on at my side without a word.

"She has her own cell and everything back at the prison though . . . right?" I venture to ask.

I tell myself I'm just making small talk but a little voice in the back of my head is whispering _And what if he says no?_ Daryl looks even more surprised now than before.

"It's not like that at all," he protests immediately, "She's the only . . . "

We both freeze at the dim roar building a good ways off in the distance. Our eyes meet. I point wordlessly to the east.

"The Governor?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Only one way to find out," Daryl replies grimly.


End file.
